Chapter 4 #3
Akhil looked at the bowl of spicy Maggi noodles and the golden, melted cheese omelet. "Is that Maggi?"
"Spicy masala Maggi with a cheese omelet," Shruti corrected proudly. "A classic masterpiece. Something a billionaire who eats black coffee and protein powder wouldn't understand."
Akhil leaned back slightly, crossing his arms over his broad chest, a glint of genuine amusement in his dark eyes.
"You know, this kitchen was designed by a world-renowned Italian architect.
The appliances were imported directly from Milan.
High-profile international chefs have cooked formal meals here. "
"And tonight," Shruti smirked, pointing a fork at his chest, "it hosted the greatest meal of all, midnight noodles. You should be honored."
Akhil burst into a genuine, hearty laugh, a rich, breathtaking sound that erased every trace of exhaustion from his face. Shruti watched him, mesmerized by how gorgeous he looked when he let his polished corporate guard down and just laughed freely.
"You are completely hopeless, Shorty," Akhil shook his head, though his voice was filled with unmistakable affection.
"Hey!" Shruti gasped, hitting his arm playfully. "We made a deal last night! Rule number three: no calling me Shorty!"
Akhil didn't even move from her playful hit. Instead, his dark gaze softened, his eyes lingering on her smiling lips.
Without asking for permission, Akhil reached out his hand. His long, warm fingers gently reached up to her face, lightly tucking a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear.
His warm thumb brushed against her cheekbone for a lingering second.
Shruti’s breath completely stopped. The playful banter instantly died in her throat. The room grew suffocatingly quiet, the air between them turning thick with an intense, electrifying charge.
"You look tired, Shruti," Akhil spoke softly, his voice dropping an octave, turning thick and velvety. "Couldn't sleep?"
"I... I have jet lag," Shruti whispered, her dark eyes locked onto his, unable to look away. "And... my mind was racing."
Akhil’s thumb stayed near her jaw, his touch feather-light yet burning like fire against her skin. "Thinking about what happened at Marine Drive?"
"Thinking about everything," Shruti admitted softly, her pulse pounding in her ears. "Thinking about Reyansh... about being here... about you."
Akhil’s dark eyes darkened further at her honest confession.
A heavy, dangerous stillness settled over him.
For a split second, his eyes dropped down to her soft, rosy lips, and Shruti saw a raw, intense hunger flash deep within his dark gaze, a look that had nothing to do with a big brother, and everything to do with a man who was fighting a losing battle against his own desires.
Akhil took a slow, deep breath, his jaw tightening as he deliberately pulled his hand back, resting it on the counter. He took a half-step backward, putting a few inches of safe distance between them.
"You don't need to worry about Reyansh Khanna," Akhil said, his tone returning to its steady, protective calm. "My teams are handling him. You are safe in this house, Shruti. I won't let anything touch you."
Shruti swallowed the sudden lump in her throat, feeling a mix of overwhelming safety and a strange, aching disappointment at the sudden distance between them.
"Have you eaten anything tonight?" Shruti asked quietly, breaking the heavy tension. "You look exhausted, Akhil."
Akhil gave a faint, tired smile. "I haven't eaten since noon. I was in meetings with my European legal team all evening."
Shruti didn't say a word. She grabbed a clean fork from the drawer beside her, picked up her bowl of noodles, and pushed the plate of cheesy omelet towards him across the marble island.
"Eat," Shruti commanded gently, handing him the fork. "Half of this is yours."
Akhil looked at the fork in his hand, then looked up at her in surprise. "You're sharing your 'midnight masterpiece' with me?"
"Don't get used to it, Mr. Billionaire," Shruti smirked, taking a bite of noodles with her own fork. "It's a one-time humanitarian gesture."
Akhil chuckled softly. He pulled up a high wooden barstool, sat right beside her at the island, and took a bite of the cheese omelet.
"Well?" Shruti asked, watching his face intently like a child waiting for praise. "How is it?"
Akhil chewed slowly, a subtle look of genuine surprise crossing his features. "It's... actually incredible."
"Told you!" Shruti beamed proudly.
For the next twenty minutes, sitting side-by-side on the marble kitchen island in the quiet, dim glow of the late-night lights, the self-made billionaire and the fiery travel journalist shared a simple midnight meal. They bantered softly, laughed at quiet jokes, and ate off the same plate.
For those twenty minutes, there were no dangerous corporate rivals, no private security guards, no family expectations, and no rigid boundaries.
There was only the two of them, wrapped under the same roof, sharing a quiet moment in the middle of the night, while the dark ocean waves crashed softly outside.